


Might Be Bleached, Might Be Not

by HugeDokuroBugs



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters: Sun & Moon | Pokemon Sun & Moon Versions
Genre: Gen, Pokemon Sun & Moon Spoilers, just three old friends meeting up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-03
Updated: 2017-01-03
Packaged: 2018-09-14 09:32:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9173875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HugeDokuroBugs/pseuds/HugeDokuroBugs
Summary: Kukui invites Guzma and Molayne over for a visit. Guzma is apprehensive.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to all /guz/, and especially to pixel_p. Thank you so much for the suggestion!

For the first time in over two years, all three of them were together in one place once again.

They were all sitting at Kukui’s table, surrounded by silence that was just stretching on and on; nobody quite knew what to say.

Kukui was eyeing the mouth-watering assortment of treats and drinks scattered all over it the table. He seemed to be deep in thought over what to do choose, his eyes darting between a can of lemonade and the plate of malasadas. Truth to be told, behind that relaxed smile was a genuine attempt at coming up with something that would act as an icebreaker, anything to get them all talking.

Molayne shared the couch with Kukui, sitting with his legs together tight, as if he was afraid he was taking up too much space. His thumb traced the rim of his teacup that was cold by now — he’d been too occupied with thinking about the situation to take a single sip. Words usually came naturally to Molayne, no matter what the situation was. 

He was always the intermediator of their little group back when they still hung out together. Young Kukui had a rather unfortunate talent of accidentally riling up Guzma with playful jokes that tended to hit Guzma hard. Soothing words were all Molayne had when it came to calming down the raging beast of a boy before he could jump at Kukui. For a while he was able to use his tall frame to hold Guzma back, but then Guzma hit a very violent growth spurt, surpassing Molayne’s height. It was as if even the Bug-type specialist’s own body was determined to lash out at Kukui. Despite that, his words (and promises of a big mug of Tapu Cocoa) were usually enough to calm Guzma down. 

But the situation they were in right now was an unusual one; there was something off about Guzma.

Guzma had taken over Kukui’s other couch, legs spread out as wide as possible to mark the furniture as his territory, hunching over to rest his arms on his thighs. Ordinarily someone might’ve found that posture intimidating, but something was wrong about it. Molayne couldn’t quite put his finger on it, though. 

Maybe it was that look that flashed across Guzma’s scowling face when he thought nobody was looking. He’d seen it before, back when they were still completing the trials; it was a calculating one, but not in a sinister manner. It was the face young Guzma would make whenever he was about to share something personal with them.

Maybe it was the way he’d spread himself. It lacked that certain dangerous aura; he was like a Pokemon trying to make himself appear bigger than he was to scare off any potential hunters. ‘Pitiful’ wasn’t a word that Molayne thought he’d ever end up applying to Guzma, but here he was. Trying to think of the best way to approach a guy who was in a situation he felt clearly uncomfortable in. 

Guzma shifted - Molayne held his breath, curious to see what his next move would be. The destruction in human form reached out to snatch the plate of malasadas, solely because he had noticed Kukui eyeing them up. Molayne and Kukui couldn’t help but watch Guzma shove a whole malasada into his big mouth, hearing the heavy muffled slosh of the sweet filling being swished around as he chewed on it. 

The thoroughly chewed up treat went down in one gulp. Molayne did a double take.

Guzma sucked his fingers clean from the sugary dusting, letting go of each tip with a loud ‘pop’.

“…Do ya want one?” Guzma extended the plate towards them, licking away bits of sugar from his face. “They’re not half-bad.”

And that was enough to start a conversation.

Kukui’s shrug was a relieved one. “Don’t mind if I do, Guzma,” he smiled, grabbing one of the offered treats, taking a small bite out of it. “You’ve always eaten the small ones that way, right? Don’t you ever want to appreciate their taste more?”

“It’s not my fault you’ve got a small mouth, Kukui,” Guzma’s posture eased a little, tension leaving his shoulders as he chuckled. A big mug of Tapu Cocoa was his next choice from the table of goodies. “And besides, I think Mo here can pull off the same feat. Right, Mo?” Guzma took a small sip from his drink while jabbing the plate of malasadas towards Molayne with the other hand. Regular old malasadas lasted only seconds in Guzma’s hands, but he always took his time when it came to Tapu Cocoa. That rule of his applied even though the cocoa had been prepared by Kukui. He set the mug down.

Molayne rubbed the back of his neck, giving the plate a flustered look. “Well, honestly, I don’t think I’d be able to,” he took his first sip of tea - despite being cold, it had a very pleasant taste, drawing an appreciating hum from him.

“C’mon, it won’t bite, Mo,” Guzma gave the plate a push, sending a malasada flying right onto startled Molayne’s lap. 

“You really want me to do this, huh?” despite having to pick up the malasada from his lap that had left behind sugary residue, his smile was cheerful one. His strong fingers squeezed the fried dough, pondering whether he should really go for it. “Um…” he turned towards Kukui in order to gauge his opinion.

“You can do it, cousin! Just give it a go!” the grinning professor aimed a playful jab at Molayne’s shoulder, not really aware of the strength he was putting behind it. It almost sent the spindly Storage System developer reeling. “Alright, here I go…!” but first, Molayne had to check that he hadn’t spilled a drop of tea (he hadn’t) before opening his mouth wide. Dextrous fingers pushed the malasada in with ease, face flushing with embarrassment when he noticed his buddies’ amused eyes on him.

He had to close his eyes to focus on the task in his mouth.

Molayne took his time with chewing the malasada, savoring its sweet flavor; it’d be a waste to swallow it right away. He kept a hand slapped over his mouth, figuring that it was more polite that way.

“Come on, Mo, swallow already,” he felt Guzma’s hand on his shoulder, his voice closer than before. When had he scooted that close to him?

Molayne nodded, doing exactly as he was told, coughing hard into his hand when a stray crumb went down a wrong pipe.

“Whoah, you better wash that down, cousin!”

“Hm-h,” Molayne blinked away tears brought up to his eyes by the violent cough, taking a big sip of the Roserade tea. The sigh of relief he let out was a big one. “Did I do it right?”

“Just ‘right’? You did well!” Kukui threw his arm around Molayne’s bony shoulder, flashing him a proud grin.

“Knew ya could do it, us big guys gotta stick together, yeah?” Guzma had set the malasada plate aside in favor of giving Molayne’s wild hair a good hard ruffle. Although Guzma’s handling was a bit rough, Molayne couldn’t help but chuckle. It really started to feel like the good old times.

“Big guys, huh?” It’s not my fault you two grew up to be giants,” Kukui stuck his tongue out, a smile tugging at his lips. 

Guzma’s hand went still, slowly slipping away from Molayne. “You should’ve drank your Moomoo Milk when you still had the chance, Kukui,” Guzma sneered.

Kukui pulled away from Molayne to finish up his half-eaten malasada. “On the plus side, at least it’s easy for me to find clothes that fit, right?”

The way Guzma’s shoulders raised and thick brows furrowed wasn’t a good sign at all. “…What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, when you compare the hem of your hoodie to that shirt of y-“

Molayne didn’t waste any time setting his cup down on the table with a hurried click. “Guys…”

“Ya don’t even wear a shirt, Kukui! That’s your wife’s coat, are ya so lazy you don’t even bother to buy your own threads?”

Molayne’s long arm found its way around Guzma’s shoulder, pulling the agitated beast closer to him to rest a hand over Guzma’s, fingers clenching in a soft squeeze.

“No fighting, guys. It’s been two years since we’ve all been together like this, right?” Molayne couldn’t quite catch what Guzma was muttering under his breath, but the tone didn’t sound pleasant. “I’m glad you decided to accept Kukui’s invitation in the first place, Guzma.”

Guzma narrowed his eyes at the smiling shirtless professor sitting not far away from him. “It’s not like I was given much choice. Kukui told the old man to make sure I’d come here tonight.”

“I realise that wasn’t a nice trick, but I would’ve never gotten you here otherwise,” Kukui straightened his cap.

Guzma’s fingers tightened into a firm fist beneath Molayne’s hand. “Why do ya care about having me here in the first place?”

“I know you don’t have a very high opinion of me, cousin, but we’re still friends. And friends care about how one of their own is doing.”

The ex-boss of Team Skull went silent.

“Hala’s told me a lot about you, said you’ve started to hold your own in the sumo training. That’s worth being proud of, right?”

“Plumeria has talked about you, too. She told me you’re not all that hard on yourself anymore after losing a battle, and that makes me happy, Guzma”. Molayne’s hand slid up from Guzma’s waist to his hair, giving it a gentle tousle, like a dad proud of his child’s accomplishments.

All the positive attention had coaxed a crimson hue onto Guzma’s face, prompting him to hide it behind his large hand. He didn’t want his… buddies to notice what effect their words had on him. “It’s nothing special, it’s just your boy, y’know, trying to have a fresh start, I suppose.”

His blush didn’t go unnoticed by the other men, whose smiles only grew wider due to it. They couldn’t recall when they had discovered it, but the more praise Guzma was lavished with, the more warmer he grew, the more metaphorically he melted in their hands. Kukui voiced his approval for everything Guzma had achieved in his training (“Let’s have a rematch some day, I wanna see how much you’ve grown!”), encouraging Guzma’s tense shoulders to go lax. Molayne showered him with similar compliments (“I’m so glad to hear how you’ve grown even further, Guzma!), earning a muffled groan from Guzma. The warmth that came with his blush were already making their way down to Guzma’s neck, pooling to his shoulders, too. But their praise didn’t there; it just kept coming and coming, making Guzma growl. Their words were genuine ones, with no malice behind them; they meant everything they said about him.

When the real compliments finally ran out, they couldn’t help but tease him just to keep that blush up. No matter what they said (“You’ve got such soft hair!” , “Those glasses suit you!” , “the amount of Tapu Cocoa you can drink in one go is impressive!”), Guzma’s flushed skin didn’t show any signs of cooling down. Kukui was about to mention how well Guzma’s hoodie actually fit him when Guzma tugged himself out of Molayne’s hold. “S-sheesh, who do you two think you are, the former president of Aether?” he mumbled, picking up his cocoa mug again to take big gulps from it. No matter how hard he tried to frown, the smile on his lips rebelled against the action, refusing to budge.

“We meant every word, Guzma,” Molayne smiled, returning to drinking his cup of Roserade tea, dipping a Lava Cookie into it. 

Guzma rubbed at the back of his neck, feeling the warmth’s hold on him loosen. Huh. He’d been away from Melemele for so long, been away from his acquaintances’ - fellow trainers’ - no, _friends’_ lives for so long. He’d been able to somewhat keep up with Kukui’s achievements due to reading whatever newspapers people had been discarding on Ula’ula. But he barely knew anything about what Molayne had been up to in the past two years.

“…” it took him a moment to turn to Molayne, and an even longer moment to meet his eyes. “How’re…. how are you and Sophocles doing?”

Molayne was absolutely beaming at his question. He stammered with his words, so many subjects trying to make their way out all at once. He cleared his throat. “The observatory’s fine as always, and Soffy,” he smiled fondly, “Soffy’s grown so much as a Trial Captain. Just last week he…”

He told Guzma all about the inventions they’d been making together and the games they’d beat together, all while the three of them picked more treats and drinks to enjoy from the table. Guzma nodded and gave a positive ‘hmh’ sound every now and then to show Molayne that he really was listening to him. 

Being here like this, with Kukui and Molayne, didn’t… didn’t feel bad at all, really. Guzma had been apprehensive about the whole visit, having expected the two to have nothing but ill feelings towards him. 

“…And Soffy, the poor kid, he ended up getting electrocuted by the system,” Molayne made a wide zig-zag motion with his hand to emphasise his story about the current champion’s trial. 

“Poor kid,” Guzma nodded. They had welcomed him with - if you ignored Kukui’s comment about his clothes - open arms, been nothing but nice to him tonight. It was a… pleasant surprise, really.

“Oh, and by the way, you forgot your mask at the observatory again, Kukui. I’m so sorry, but I forgot to take it with me.”

Kukui made not-so-subtle motions at Molayne to signal him to keep his mouth zipped shut about it. 

Guzma took the line anyway and ran with it. “He left _what_ in the observatory?”

“His wrestling mask,” Molayne pushed another piece of soggy Lava Cookie into his mouth, its sweet taste drawing a small happy hum from him.

“You wrestle?!” Guzma stared at Kukui with wide eyes; his grin couldn’t grow any wider than it actually was. “No way, since when?”

“I don’t wrestle,” Kukui tried to shrug it off, “I’m… merely holding the mask for a friend of mine, the Masked Royal.”

Guzma barked a laugh right at his face, loud and sharp. “Masked Royal? I don’t think that guy can even wrestle. What, did you two bond over your hatred for shirts?” 

“I’ll have you know that the Masked Royal knows many cool moves, cousin. And-“ Guzma could feel Kukui’s eyes on him, noticing what exactly his attention was fixed on; purple splotches peeking through the skin of his left wrist. _Drat_. He had no idea when that had rubbed off. “…What’s that?” Kukui asked, now distracted.

Guzma rolled his eyes at him. “I’ll show ya, but don’t go all disapproving parent on me, alright?” and with that, Guzma gathered quite an amount of saliva in his mouth, spitting it all out at his arm; there was nothing graceful about the act. He began rubbing at the wet spot with his other wrist, rubbing off… _something_. “It’s concealer, but the sort they sell here on Melemele is just garbage, it comes off so easily.”

Molayne gasped when he realized what Guzma was bringing into their view. “ _That’s_ …”

“Yeah,” was all Guzma said when he held his arm out towards them, giving them a full view of the familiar Skull emblem tattooed onto his arm in purple.

They just stared at it silence. “I’ve got it on my other arm, too,” he shrugged, “Plumeria’s was just a decal, ya can’t believe how much she shouted at me for these,” Guzma grinned at their reaction. “Ya know full well why I can’t show these around, but it’s still a sick design, yeah?”

“…Wow,” Molayne was awestruck, his long fingers tracing the outlines of the emblem. “But… didn’t it hurt?”

“No.”

They stared at him.

“Alright, alright. Just a little bit. Not much,” he looked up at Kukui, trying to decipher what the neutral look on his face meant. Was he upset? It’s not like Guzma cared about what he thought of i-

“They are cool,” Kukui was all smiles. “They really do fit you, cousin”. Molayne nodded, mirroring Kukui’s opinion.

Guzma was taken back. “What, aren’t ya gonna go all ‘that was a dumb thing for you to do, Guzma?’”

“Why should I? Despite what it symbolizes, it’s an awesome tattoo.”

Guzma felt moved by their acceptance, but only for a few seconds. He immediately buried that fuzzy feeling down; he wasn’t gonna think about it, or the warmth creeping its way back onto his face. “…Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. Now, who wants some malasadas? We gotta eat them all tonight, they’re not gonna taste as good tomorrow.”

With affirming murmurs, they all snatched one malasada each from the plate, and Guzma didn’t waste any time shoving the treat into his mouth again.

“Never had the chance to ask you, cousin, but how long have you been bleaching your hair? It’s been like that as long as I can remember.”

Guzma stared at him like he had said something dumb, one brow furrowed, forming his classic one-eyed squint. The sight was comical, especially with his filled mouth. It took a few seconds before the malasada was swallowed down. “It’s natural, Kukui. Here, lemme prove you.”

He flopped down onto Molayne’s lap stomach first like a Magikarp hitting dry land. Molayne squeaked at the sudden weight filling his lap. “Look,” he mumbled into the couch’s material, moving the white curls away with his hand to give them a good view of the black undercut.

Very, very tiny white curls were pushing out of the portion of the undercut hidden by his white hair, like sprouting plants waiting to bloom in their full glory.

“Well, well, would you look at that,” Kukui rubbed one of the white buds between his index and thumb. “Guess we’ve got an old man of our own in our group!”

Molayne was horrified. “Kukui, please…!” 

Guzma didn’t even bother to lash out; he’d come to terms with his hair color long time ago, Besides, it fit him perfectly, old people hair color or not. He sat up again, finishing his Tapu Cocoa before reaching out for another mug of - already cold, but still good - cocoa.

All of a sudden, Guzma looked very thoughtful. “What about your wife, Kukui. Does she bleach?

“Now that you mention it…” Molayne tapped at his own chin, pondering.

They both turned to Kukui.

Kukui stared back at them.

“I… I’ve got _no_ idea.”

They proceeded to theorise over the source of Burnet’s hair color over some more malasadas.

———

Half an hour later the front door was opened, and in walked Kukui’s wife, Burnet.

She was met with the sight of three troubled men staring right at her.

“Burnet?” Kukui started.

“Yes, dear?”

“Do you bleach your hair?”

Burnet’s grin held nothing but mischief.

She refused to reveal her secret to them.


End file.
